"I think I understand," returned Carley. "Then I suppose you're in a
hurry to get home? Of course you have a girl you're just dying to see?"
"No, I'm sorry to say I haven't," he replied, simply. "I was glad I
didn't have to leave a sweetheart behind, when I went to France. But it
wouldn't be so bad to have one to go back to now."
"Don't you worry!" exclaimed Carley. "You can take your choice
presently. You have the open sesame to every real American girl's
heart."
"And what is that?" he asked, with a blush.
"Your service to your country," she said, gravely.
"Well," he said, with a singular bluntness, "considering I didn't get
any medals or bonuses, I'd like to draw a nice girl."
"You will," replied Carley, and made haste to change the subject. "By
the way, did you meet Glenn Kilbourne in France?"
"Not that I remember," rejoined Burton, as he got up, rising rather
stiffly by aid of his cane. "I must go, Miss Burch. Really I can't thank
you enough. And I'll never forget it."
"Will you write me how you are getting along?" asked Carley, offering
her hand.
"Yes."
Carley moved with him out into the hall and to the door. There was
a question she wanted to ask, but found it strangely difficult of
utterance. At the door Burton fixed a rather penetrating gaze upon her.
"You didn't ask me about Rust," he said.
"No, I--I didn't think of him--until now, in fact," Carley lied.
"Of course then you couldn't have heard about him. I was wondering."
"I have heard nothing."
"It was Rust who told me to come to you," said Burton. "We were talking
one day, and he--well, he thought you were true blue. He said he knew
you'd trust me and lend me money. I couldn't have asked you but for
him."
"True blue! He believed that. I'm glad.... Has he spoken of me to you
since I was last at the hospital?"
"Hardly," replied Burton, with the straight, strange glance on her
again.
Carley met this glance and suddenly a coldness seemed to envelop her.
It did not seem to come from within though her heart stopped beating.
Burton had not changed--the warmth, the gratitude still lingered about
him. But the light of his eyes! Carley had seen it in Glenn's, in
Rust's--a strange, questioning, far-off light, infinitely aloof and
unutterably sad. Then there came a lift of her heart that released
a pang. She whispered with dread, with a tremor, with an instinct of
calamity.